George kept going out to his car to get a drink. "Excuse me," he would say and then would come back in reeking of bourbon. Mrs. Jones doesn't let him drink or smoke inside.
"I wish he would stop that drinking," George's mom told me with a scowl and a sigh as I was in the kitchen watching her cook.
Lunch was delicious. My favorite thing was Mrs. Jones' homemade biscuits and gravy. Every time I would eat my two, George's mom would put two more on my plate. I must have eaten ten. They literally melted in your mouth.
George and I got on a discussion of the differences between black and white churches after lunch.
"Black people go to church for hours," George told me.
"And black preachers are really theatrical and dramatic," I replied.
"That's to get the fear of God in you," George said.
I finally drove home in a driving rain. It was just a few miles, but I was growing concerned I couldn't see to drive. I am still so shaky these days.
7 comments:
I'm happy to see you took George and his mother's offer of a meal! That is a good step forward.
You may be shaky, but you're doing a lot better than George!
I want one of her homemade biscuits!
Nice that you went there for Sunday dinner.
Maybe she shouldn't let him in the house at all if he's going to drink. First time he walked out for a moment, I'd lock the door and feed his dinner to the dogs.
It is scary driving in hard rain, so if you do feel a bit nervous, it is okay to pull over until it slows down some. Y'all take care now!
I'm glad you joined them, I bet they were both so happy to have you there!
Sir:
I am utterly delighted you went to George's home and ate dinner with George and his Mom!!!
Here's my wish that you get to do this very often! I think it is an emotionally enriching thing to do!
PipeTobacco
http://frumpyprofessor.blogspot.com
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